Zane frowns. “Yeah, of course. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I am, but I want to clear the air. The thing is, Zane, well… I’m not a virgin.”
He laughs. “Obviously not, sweetheart. I’ve had you six ways until Sunday, so you’re definitely not a virgin by any stretch of the imagination.”
I blow out a breath. “Right. But I haven’t been a virgin for a long time, Zane. I wasn’t a virgin on the night of the hunt.”
At that, he looks puzzled.
“Wait a second. Of course you were because why else would it be called the Virgin Hunt? All of the girls were virgins, and I was your first.”
My heart sinks because my worst suspicions were true. “No, I wasn’t,” I say in a low but firm tone. “I lost my virginity a long time ago to a boy with terrible acne and bad breath. That’s when it happened, Zane. I’m sure.”
But still, my handsome man won’t acknowledge it.
“There’s no need to be ashamed, Jemima, because I know twenty-three is a little old to be a virgin, but it’s fine and I love that about you. In fact, it’s difficult these days to find a woman who hasn’t been touched by other men and I love knowing that my cock is the first one you’ve had inside that tight pussy.”
Oh god, this is even worse than I expected because he’s not hearing me. Tears pool in my eyes as I shake my head.
“No Zane,” I manage in a shaky voice. “I have been with other men before you. In fact, I’ve been with quite a number of men because I’m one of those women who believes in her own physical pleasure and who isn’t afraid to indulge. You weren’t my first, Zane. I thought… well, I thought you knew that.”
He blinks at me, totally surprised.
“Well, why the fuck did you join the Virgin Hunt then, if you weren’t a virgin? What the hell, Jemima? Did you lie to Melissa?”
I shake my head. “No, she never even asked me, to be honest. Plus, I talked to one of the other girls, and she said none of the women participating were virgins. It’s just a metaphor. A game. Nothing more.”
Zane shakes his head.
“Fuck no,” he growls. “I specifically requested that Melissa only bring me virgins that night. It was a part of our deal! What the fuck? There must be some type of misunderstanding.”
I shake my head.
“No, there’s no misunderstanding,” I say softly. “Zane, us girls who work for Sanctum are sex workers. You know that. We’re not virgins.”
He’s still fuming.
“But I fucking paid six figures for that fucking chase! I requested a special type of woman and what the hell! This fucking organization gyped me?”
The tears start to fall. “I’m so sorry, Zane. I don’t know what to say.”
My date gets eerily quiet for far too long. The waiter returns with our food and then departs, but Zane doesn’t pick up his fork.
“I can’t believe this,” he finally says in a low voice. “This is how they repay me? I deserve better than to be fed lies.”
“Zane, please, don’t be upset. I’m sure everyone thought you weren’t serious, and that it was just a play on words—”
He stands up then, his expression furious. Those blue eyes shoot sparks and his black hair seems to stand on end.
“Don’t tell me what is impossible!” the man hisses. “I wanted women who have never been touched, and I got a bunch of fucking whores!”
At that, I start getting angry.
“I’ll have you know that we’re not whores, discarded or second-hand in any way,” I bite back. “So keep yourself in check.”
But he’s beyond reason now.
“You’ve been lying to me all along,” he hisses, throwing his napkin onto the table in a gesture of disgust.
“That’s not what happened. I didn’t think you genuinely believed that bullshit about the Virgin Hunt. What, you think the summer bacchanal also has a million virgins for the men to chase?”
He merely shakes his head with disgust.
“Yeah, but I paid for my shit. Plus, how many times did I say it? I made it totally clear, Jemima, that I only want untouched women who are tasting dick for the first time. What the fuck is wrong with management here? I’m going to burn this place down.”
Then he begins to storm off, before skidding to a halt and spinning around to face me, daggers in his eyes.
“Please, we’ll work through this. Don’t leave,” I say, hating the pleading tone in my voice.
But Zane’s expression is cold.
“We’re through,” he says in an icy tone. “Get out. You don’t belong here.”
With that, my lover strides off, his broad figure disappearing around the corner. Meanwhile, tears stream down my face even as other patrons stare. Their looks are pitying, and I feel incredibly embarrassed suddenly, sitting here in a tiny dress after being scorned by a handsome billionaire.